


Homothermic

by SilverBird13



Category: Herbert West - Reanimator - H. P. Lovecraft, Re-Animator (1985)
Genre: "Dan" is a sweetheart, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Stay creepy Herbert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBird13/pseuds/SilverBird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One Saturday evening in early December found us idle, with West perched like an irritated cat in his armchair examining various notes, seemingly impervious to the cold whilst I huddled on the rug before the fireplace.  Feeling more a beggar than a doctor in my frigid state, I crawled towards West, retrieving from the floor a blanket I had draped over his lap earlier."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homothermic

The winter following our arrival in Bolton was a difficult one for me, as while I had grown accustomed to the frigid Massachusetts weather in my time at the Miskatonic University, the drafts that gusted from the river directly into the heart of the town were unlike any I had experienced before in terms of their intensity. While the townspeople referred to this winter as unremarkable, I was often uncharacteristically ill, and was glad despite the certainly opposing opinion of my partner that the ground was frozen to impregnability in the potter’s field as I would have proved to be of little help regarding experimentation. West, a native of the Miskatonic Valley, remained in steady health despite our close quarters, and for that I was grateful. Despite this, his mood, as one may presume, was foul from the time of the first frost onwards due to the impossibility of collecting specimens without detection. Our encounters were brief, rough affairs between my illnesses and the influx of patients, and I often left West’s room with a miscellany of marks I required a scarf to conceal. 

One Saturday evening in early December found us idle, with West perched like an irritated cat in his armchair examining various notes, seemingly impervious to the cold whilst I huddled on the rug before the fireplace. Feeling more a beggar than a doctor in my frigid state, I crawled towards West, retrieving from the floor a blanket I had draped over his lap earlier. Wrapping it around myself as a matron would her shawl, I settled on my haunches and leaned my cheek against one of West’s slender calves. I murmured a greeting to the figure above me, who immediately returned my salutation with a languorous hand atop my head. I looked up to see that West’s brow remained furrowed in confused study, and I rose up upon my knees to kiss his pursed mouth briefly, returning to my prior position once I felt West’s lips begin to curl into a smile beneath mine. His hands trailed through my hair to cup my cheeks firmly, his notes finally being disregarded as they slipped to the floor beside me. 

The evening wind whined against the glass of the parlor’s windows, and again I rose up upon my haunches, this time to work West’s trousers open. We had not coupled in this way in many weeks, and the act brought to mind heated midnights in the spring before that unthinkable summer of plague and death. Above me, his cooed sounds of pleasure heated my own blood against the chill of the room, and as my actions upon West and myself grew more vigorous, I allowed the blanket to fall to the rug in a tired heap. Upon reaching our completions, I felt a sense of pristine intimacy that I had been left wanting from our recent encounters. My slick lips curled into a complacent smile as I withdrew myself from West, whose panting and disheveled figure gave me the basest satisfaction in the moments before he slid down beside me, sprawling us out before the fire with the blanket partially covering our satiated forms. I closed my eyes in drowsy pleasure as West’s graceful fingers worked open my dressing gown and nightshirt and was unable to restrain a high gasp as his blushed but icy cheek came to rest on the bared skin directly above my heart.

For a time, the memory of West’s quiet smile as he listened to the steady pounding within my breast warmed me against any blast of river wind. Now I am only able to think of this moment with the greatest and most indescribable dread.


End file.
